


can't ask you to give what you already gave

by daenw (freckledfoxes)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Cuddling, First Kiss, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Season/Series 12, Sub Dean Winchester, cas has no chill, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 18:03:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10996113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledfoxes/pseuds/daenw
Summary: He stares at the TV with the full intention of turning it on, but Dean is just so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion keeping him from even reaching just a couple of feet for the remote.“Rough day?”Dean starts, though he can’t even muster the energy to jump. He blinks, though, and turns his head toward the all-too familiar voice coming from the doorway.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean settles onto the couch with a sigh, letting all the tension drop out of him like he’s slipping off a wet coat. His body aches with the remnants of the hunt; overworked muscles, unattended scrapes, bruised knees and elbows, raw throat. But everyone is safe. His mom is down the hall, with barely a scratch even though she saved their asses, and Sam is too, both asleep soundly in their own beds.

He stares at the TV with the full intention of turning it on, but Dean is just so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion keeping him from even reaching just a couple of feet for the remote.

“Rough day?”

Dean starts, though he can’t even muster the energy to jump. He blinks, though, and turns his head toward the all-too familiar voice coming from the doorway.

Cas is standing there, hair a mess and coat askew, much like when Dean first knew him. It sends a warmth through him, right down to his toes. He nods in reply and gestures Cas over, scooting over on the couch as much as he is able to make room for Cas.

Cas sits beside Dean, perched on the edge of the couch, not quite as relaxed as Dean would like him to be.

“How’s the Lucifer-hunt coming?” he asks, though he’s not sure he really wants to know. The closer Cas gets to Lucifer, the more Dean has to worry.

Cas shakes his head. “He’s still in the wind. I have a lead, but I’m not sure… It’s a bit too high profile for someone who shouldn’t want to be caught.”

“You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.”

The compliment slips out easily, but Dean reddens when he says it. He means it, but he’s never been so open about stuff like that when it comes to Cas. That got them into trouble before, so he supposes this can only be a good thing.

Cas smiles, then, soft and a little surprised. He tips his head a bit to the side and replies with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Dean is still embarrassed.

He shifts in his seat and winces, something pinching in his back. Of course Cas notices, and the next thing Dean knows, there’s a hand on his knee and all of his pain from the hunt is gone.

“You don’t have to do that, Cas. Don’t waste the mojo on me.”

“It’s fine, Dean. You’re not a waste.”

Dean couldn’t possibly feel any more embarrassed.

“Besides, as far as I can tell, I’m at full power. You don’t need to worry.”

“I always worry ‘bout you.” Dean’s not sure he even has control over his own mouth anymore. He looks down at his lap even though he can feel Cas’ gaze on him.

“I worry about you, too. Constantly.”

He supposes Cas is trying to put them on equal ground again, bearing one soul for another, but his words make Dean light up from the inside even more.

“Jesus,” he mutters, running his hands through his hair and closing his eyes.

Cas doesn’t reply, he just stares. Dean finally looks up again, meeting the gaze, and he takes a deep breath.

“Your mother told me to be more open with you. I’m trying.”

“You’ve been talking to my mom? About me?”

“I talk to her about a lot of things. But most of them have to do with you, yes.”

Dean swallows. “She likes you.”

“She’s… She wants to know you. And Sam. I know you two better than anyone alive. I’m her bridge to the two of you.”

“Yeah, but… She still likes you.”

They stare at each other for another moment. Cas has this soft look in his eyes that Dean can’t look away from. 

“Are you tired?” Cas asks him quietly, breath warm where it brushes Dean’s skin.

Dean shakes his head.

“I would like to kiss you. If that’s alright.”

Dean’s cheeks are burning. “Sounds really weird when you ask, Cas.”

“Well, I need to ask. I’m not going to take what you don’t want to give.”

Dean rolls his eyes, though he appreciates it nonetheless. “Yes, Cas. You can kiss me.”

And boy, does he. Their lips meet, soft and sweet at first, but Dean feels like a drowning man, and the only air he’s going to get is straight from Cas’ mouth. He clutches at Cas, his heart nearly erupting in his chest. There’s a rushing in his ears and goosebumps spread over his arms. He runs his hands around Cas neck, into Cas’ hair, and Cas just grips him tight, pulling him close, fingers digging into his back.

“For future reference,” Dean breathes, backing up just an inch so he can speak. Cas follows him, hooded eyes trained on Dean’s lips. Dean is nearly salivating at the sight. “You can kiss me whenever you want. You don’t gotta ask.”

“Noted,” Cas murmurs. “No more talking. I want to kiss you again.”

Dean can’t say no to that.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel is warm beneath the red comforter he’s claimed as his own as he wakes slowly early one morning. Sunlight streams in through the grimey motel window, etching out thin beams through the cracks in the moth-bitten curtains. The room isn’t well-insulated, and Castiel can sense the chill beyond the safety of his blanket. So he burrows deeper and hugs the blanket tighter around his body, hoping that, somehow, he’d woken up hours before they’d have to move and he’d have time yet to sleep.

Castiel barely closes his eyes again before he hears Dean’s unmistakable knock, some call and response tune that Castiel both hates and adores.

“Up and at ‘em, Cas. C’mon,” Dean says as he opens the door, entering Castiel’s room as though he has every right to it. Castiel supposes he does.

He groans, curling further in on himself. “Go away,” he mumbles, though there’s hardly an ounce of intent behind the words.

He hears Dean huff and he starts tugging at the end of Castiel’s comforter, trying to pull it off. “We got shit to do today, man. Get up.”

“Why must it be so early?” Castiel complains.

“Because I wanna get home, Cas. Don’t you wanna get home? We’ve been on the road for two days. Sleep in the car if you want, but come on.”

Castiel groans again and this time Dean manages to yank the blanket clean off of him in one quick swipe. Castiel practically hisses when the chilly air hits his skin. He reaches blindly, uselessly, for the blanket that is probably now somewhere across the room.

Despite his protests, Castiel must concede Dean’s point. He would very much like to get home. He can stretch his legs there, and eat food that hasn’t been sitting under a heat lamp for an hour, and attend to the greenhouse, which he’d just begun to overhaul.

Castiel sits up, stretches his arms above his head and arches his back, popping out kinks and stiffness that had crept into his bones in the night. He flexes his toes in the carpet, rolls his neck slowly, and cracks open his eyes to watch Dean move about the room, packing Castiel’s things away into his duffle.

“You don’t have to do that,” he grouses, running his hands over his hair, trying to smooth it.

Dean finds a pair of clean boxers and throws them toward Cas. They hit him square in the face and Dean lets out a very ugly snort.

“If I don’t, we’ll never get outta here.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and stands slowly. He reaches down to touch his toes, stretching out his spine a bit more, before straightening. He watches Dean a bit more, meticulously folding a pair of pants that Castiel doesn’t even remember packing. He takes a deep breath and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his own sweats and starts to inch them down, all the while still watching as Dean notices out of the corner of his eye and snaps his head to look in Castiel’s direction.

Castiel curses the irrational, human nerves that twist through his stomach, because he’s not human. As far as he can tell, he’s back to full power. His wings don’t even feel as mangled as they once did. But a rush of heat curls into his belly when Dean rakes his eyes over him.

Castiel licks his lips. Dean’s eyes snap upward to track the movement.

“Cas…”

“Why did you get us separate rooms?” Castiel interrupts, slowly inching his pants down over his hips. He watches the twitch in Dean’s jaw and it nearly makes Castiel dizzy.

Dean swallows, the sound of it sharp in contrast with the slow hush of Castiel’s clothing slipping over his skin. His pants land with a soft sound around his feet.

Dean’s cheeks are apple-red. His eyes are wide. He licks his lips again. “I--uh…”

Castiel grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts, deliberately, until he can pull it over his head. His hair must be a mess again, but the way Dean’s eyes light up, he’s not inclined to fix it.

“We should talk about the other night. The kiss. You haven’t touched me since.”

Castiel’s fingers fiddle with the elastic band of his underwear. He’s aroused now. Not fully, but enough that Dean has noticed, his eyes dipping down; just a glance.

Dean clears his throat. “I didn’t… wanna assume…”

“I _wanted_ to kiss you, remember? I asked.”

“Told you, you didn’t have--”

“You’ve haven’t been close enough for me to do it again. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Dean can only shake his head.

“Does _this_ make you uncomfortable?” Castiel asks, sliding one of his hands down to grip firmly around the outline of his half-hard cock. He swallows a hitch in his breath, wanting to remain composed.

Dean doesn’t. His eyes fall once more. He makes a strangled sound and, again, just shakes his head.

“You don’t have to distance yourself from me. I’m sure of what I want. Aren’t you?”

Dean looks up into his eyes, wets his lips, and finally speaks. “Yeah.”

“Then come here. Please.”

Dean is obedient; he doesn’t need to be told twice. He stumbles around the bed, eyes never leaving Castiel’s. He can practically hear Dean’s heart drumming a wild beat against his ribs. Or perhaps that’s his own.

Dean stops just short of him, close enough that Castiel can feel Dean’s breath on his face. Dean’s gaze has fallen to his lips. Castiel wets them, adjusts his grip on himself slightly and the movement makes his eyelids flutter.

“Do you want this?” he murmurs, his voice coming out far shakier than he intended.

“Yes.”

“Do you want _me_?”

“God, _yes_.” Dean breathes it like a prayer.

They finally meet in the middle, a flurry of hands and lips, gasping, grabbing, aching.

Dean is between Castiel and the bed so it only takes a bit of maneuvering before he has Dean flat on his back. Castiel pushes off his underwear hurriedly, fully hard now. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, aching with the need for release. He grasps the base in his fist, squeezing, and he crawls over Dean, who watches every move like a hawk.

“Kiss me,” Castiel whispers, leaning down to rest his head against Dean’s. “I’ve been wanting you to touch me for days.”

“Christ,” Dean gasps, leaning up to capture Castiel’s lips in his own. It feels like too much and not enough, and Dean’s hands are in Castiel’s hair and on his lower back, holding him close like Castiel might shatter apart if he doesn’t. Castiel thinks he might.

“Want to give you everything Dean. Want anything you’ll give me,” he groans between kisses, gasping for breath when Dean trails his lips down Castiel’s throat and sucks a bruising mark against his Adam’s Apple.

Castiel rocks his hips forward, craving friction, but is met with the barest graze against the fly of Dean’s jeans. Frustration curls like a snarl from his lips and he balls his hands into fists in the front of Dean’s shirt. He adjusts, grabs the hand Dean has twisted in his hair and directs it down to his cock.

Dean’s touch is tentative at first and Castiel sighs, but it’s not enough. He thrusts himself into Dean’s grip, fucking into Dean’s loose fingers.

“S-sorry,” Dean breathes, sounding surprised. “Haven’t-- Haven’t done this in a while.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You’re never shy about sex, Dean. _Please_.”

Dean is silent then, but he tightens his grip around Castiel and strokes from root to tip, running his thumb over the head slowly, gathering precome to ease the slide back down. Castiel gasps, head swimming with the sensation.

“Christ, you’re so wet for it,” he hears Dean mutter, probably more to himself than anything, and Castiel looks down to see Dean watching where Castiel’s cock is sliding through his grip with a look of pure awe.

Castiel leans forward and sets his lips to Dean’s ear. “For _you_ ,” he whispers, clarifying. His eyes roll into the back of his head when Dean squeezes his cock, giving him a couple firm strokes in response.

Castiel runs one of his hands up under Dean’s shirt, feeling his way up Dean’s stomach and chest. His fingers play lightly over Dean’s nipples, which elicits an absolutely filthy string of expletives that Castiel wants to hear over and over again. He pushes Dean’s shirt up and licks lightly around one of the small pink buds before taking it into his mouth. Dean moans, loud and unashamed, arching upward into the Castiel. He can feel the hard line of Dean’s arousal against one of his thighs, straining against the stiff denim of his jeans, and he’s floored by the sudden thought that he really wants to feel that against his ass instead.

“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” he complains, sitting up slowly.

Dean must agree, because he sits up as well and sheds his shirt quickly, then undoes the zipper of his jeans. Castiel pushes his hands away and reaches inside, grasping Dean’s hard cock in his hand.

“I did this to you,” he whispers, almost unbelievably. “I made you feel this.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, leaning forward to capture Castiel in a heated kiss. “Yeah.”

Castiel pulls away and Dean makes a noise at the loss. Castiel shushes him with a finger to his lips before standing and pulling Dean’s jeans and boxers off of him.

Castiel climbs back into Dean’s lap, but instead of sitting, Dean holds Castiel in place, wrapping an arm around his waist and looking at his cock, which is just about level with Dean’s mouth.

Dean leans forward and captures the head between his lips, tongue flicking lightly over the slit. Castiel gasps, hands coming up into Dean’s hair.

“ _Dean_ … please…”

Dean looks up at Castiel through his lashes for a short moment, holding the head of Castiel’s cock in his lips before hollowing out his cheeks and taking Castiel’s full length into his mouth, until Castiel is nudging the back of his throat. Castiel makes a strangled sound, eyes wide and he watches as Dean takes a deep breath through his nose, adjusting to the feeling and trying not to gag.

Castiel runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, effectively petting him, heart full of affection for this man. “So perfect,” Castiel murmurs. “You’re so good to me. Taking me so beautifully. Didn’t even have to ask.”

Dean looks up at him and pride is radiating off his very soul. Dean makes a contented sound around his cock, hands sliding down Castiel’s thighs, dropping, then sliding behind Dean’s back, where he crosses his wrists. Castiel’s heart swells.

He tightens his fingers slightly in Dean’s hair, holding him firmly in place, and he rocks his hips experimentally, sliding his cock out of Dean’s mouth to the head before sliding back in slowly until Dean’s nose nuzzles back into the thick hair above his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispers, sliding in and out, so slowly, once more. “Use your tongue, Dean.”

Dean does, fluttering over Castiel’s cock gently.

“Yes, Dean. Just like that. So good. Want to fuck your mouth. Can you keep still for me?”

Dean makes a soft noise of affirmation, looking up at Castiel with wide eyes.

Castiel strokes his hand through Dean’s hair affectionately, watching him. He starts to rock his hips back and forth, slowly at first, then progressively faster. Dean takes him like he was made for it, and Castiel sings his praises as he holds onto Dean’s hair and thrusts with abandon.

Tension is curling up tight and hot in his belly and he can feel sweat trickling at his lower back. He’s lost control of his breathing, gasps hitching in his throat and punching out of him with every soft flick of Dean’s tongue.

“Hands… Dean-- ah-- Touch me, Dean. Please-- ah, _fuck_.”

He has his head tipped back, so he only feels when Dean rests his hands on Castiel’s thighs. It sends even more warmth curling up through him. Dean’s hands keep going, though, caressing up his hips and around to cup his ass, until one of Dean’s fingers slips between his cheeks and barely grazes over Castiel’s hole.

Castiel gasps. He barely gets out a, “Dean--” before he seizes up and starts spurting hot down Dean’s throat. Dean doesn’t even flinch. He swallows as much as he can, a little escaping out the corners of his mouth to drip down his chin, and he just keeps massaging Castiel’s hole until Castiel is a trembling, oversensitive mess, curled around Dean and twitching with every light touch.

Dean continues to keep Castiel’s cock in his mouth even while he maneuvers Castiel into laying down. He wraps one arm around the tops of Castiel’s thighs, suckling gently until Castiel is fully soft, and even then Castiel has to push him off. He looks at Dean, whose expression is entirely blissed, and sees that Dean is still hard, painfully so.

“Dean,” he mumbles, reaching down to wrap his hand around Dean’s cock.

Dean looks up at him slowly. “Y’don’t have to,” he practically slurs.

Castiel leans forward and kisses him to shut him up, setting up a steady pace with his fist. It doesn’t take long before Dean is gasping and shaking apart in Castiel’s hands. Dean comes silently, mouth hanging open and eyes never leaving Castiel’s.

They lay together for a long time, curled toward one another, just breathing. Watching. Castiel reaches out a hand and cups it around the side of Dean’s face, rubbing his thumb over the ridge of Dean’s cheek, then his swollen lower lip.

“Sure know how to make a guy feel special, Cas,” Dean says softly, turning his face to nudge his nose into Castiel’s palm.

“Not really. Only you,” Castiel replies.

Dean looks at him and smiles, and Castiel swears he looks a little shy.

“I’m not shy about sex _with women_ ,” Dean admits, as if he knew what Cas was thinking.

Castiel’s brows knit together, then he remembers.

“Guys are just-- It’s different. Feels different. ‘Specially you.”

The heat returns to Castiel’s belly. He leans in and presses his forehead to Dean’s.

“Sorry I distanced myself. You just-- I think you make me nervous.”

Castiel swallows thickly. “I’m sorry.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Don’t. It’s a good nervous. Like… god, this is stupid, but like butterflies in your stomach kinda nervous. You know what I mean?”

Castiel nods, because yes, that is absolutely something he understand.

Dean’s smile turns wicked a moment later. “That was kinda kinky, too, Cas. All the _good boy_ and _keep still for me_ stuff. Who woulda thought.”

Castiel flushes, shame oozing up into his throat. “Was is bad?”

Dean laughs. “No. No, absolutely not. It was actually… it was awesome. I like it. Like when you get all _large and in charge_. S’nice. Besides, I kept your dick in my mouth way longer than I needed to. If _anyone_ has the weirder kink here it’s me.”

Castiel’s cock twitches at the memory, although a little feebly. “I liked it. A lot, actually.”

Dean blushes, but smiles still. “Yeah? Like having someone warming your dick?”

Castiel flushes and his cock gives another little twitch. “Yes. Very much.”

“Mmm.” Dean looks down at where Castiel’s cock lays against his belly. He reaches down and takes it in his hand, giving it a couple slow strokes. “If you wanna drive, I’m sure that could be arranged.”

The heat coursing through Castiel now would never let him turn the offer down.

So he doesn’t.


End file.
